


The One

by maybege



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Princess!Reader, Smut, Yearning, bodyguard!Paz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybege/pseuds/maybege
Summary: Pas Vizsla, a security guard for the Royal family, is assigned to be the new personal bodyguard of the youngest princess and PR darling - you.
Relationships: Paz Vizsla/Reader, Paz Vizsla/You
Comments: 60
Kudos: 100





	1. The One Where You Meet

**Author's Note:**

> The start of a new series – yay! This universe has been proudly co-created with @mostly-megan without whom all of this probably would not happen. As always, I hope you liked it and let me know what you think!

Paz Vizsla was not the kind of person to get easily nervous.

He had seen a lot in his lifetime, some people might argue too much. He had seen more wars than he cared to admit, had seen too many people die – not all of them soldiers – and after the number of near-death experiences had surpassed the number of fingers he had, he had taken the advice of one of his comrades and just decided to just _stop_.

Stop getting nervous.

Because in the end, there was only so little he could do. And being nervous never helped.

So, as he stood in front of the gates to the palace, dressed in a suit that was just slightly too tight and a gun holstered to his hip, Paz took a deep breath.

“Paz Vizsla,” he introduced himself, “I am here to meet with someone called,” he looked down on the letter in his hands, “Briggs?”

“Just through the hallway,” the policeman gestured toward said hallway and Paz nodded. This seemed to be the servant’s entrance. He saw several baskets of laundry, some maids that seemed to be on a smoke break and even more security guards roaming about.

People stared at him, obviously suspicious of the new man walking through the halls and Paz did not fault them for it.

He knew he was a big man. Knew that his stoic facial expression scared people more often than not. Knew that after years of working as a security guard, the serious lines on his face had settled. There was nothing he could do about it now.

As he entered the door labelled security personnel, he was greeted by two guards that seemed to have just finished their shifts. They nodded at him, cleaning their guns at a table. One was chewing gun obnoxiously loud. Paz did not like him.

“New here, huh?”, one asked him.

Paz nodded, remaining silent.

Realization dawned on the one who did not chew gum. “You’re the new one who’s assigned to the princess!”

Paz nodded again, figuring that his position would soon be known. The security protocol never stated that he was not allowed to divulge his occupation to other security personnel.

“Better watch out, she is Briggs’ favourite,” the one with the gum said, lifting his finger as if entrusting him with a well-kept secret.

“She is PR’s favourite,” the one scoffed, “out of all four kids, I bet they least expected the youngest daughter to be the saving grace of the fucking monarchy.”

He did not say anything.

Paz was not one to keep up on celebrity gossip. Hell, sometimes he didn’t even have the energy to watch the news.

But even he knew that of the four children the King and Queen had produced, the three eldest – all sons – had been in big trouble. One of them, at least, was involved in some sort of drug addiction – the eldest one, perhaps? While another one had to be seen in front of the court because of some embellishing scandal and yet another one had been sent back into the army without another word.

Only the youngest one, the princess, had managed to steer clear of scandal and while the heir to the throne was trying to somehow win back the approval of the people, the princess was busy travelling from one event to the next while also evading mobs of protesters.

Which was when _he_ had been the one to receive a letter in the mail asking if he was interested in a job working for the royal family.

And he had accepted.

Paz would lie if he said the money was his main motivation. After fighting all the wars in the name of a king who had not even touched a gun, any sort of patriotism had left him. But he still needed the money. Living in the capital was expensive and even with the tiny studio apartment he rented, the pension from the army was not enough

An older man entered the room, wearing an expensively tailored suit, his grey hair styled perfectly with not a single hair out of place.

Paz wondered if the dark stubble could already be seen on his jaw even though he had shaved this morning.

By the way Briggs eyed him, he would guess yes.

“Vizsla,” Briggs nodded at him, before swiftly turning around and walking down the hallway, not slowing his steps in the slightest.

Paz followed him, immediately recognizing what the chief in staff wanted from him – discipline. This was just like in the army. He knew that. He could do that.

“I trust you have been familiarized with the code of conduct when it comes to working at the palace?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now, I will tell you three things and I do not like to repeat myself.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do not – _ever_ – attempt any personal relationship with any of the members of the royal household. Not only is it unprofessional but the press has an eye for scandal and that could build up to be a big one. We do not need any more scandal in this house than we already have.”

They passed a huge painting, depicting an old battle of some sort.

Paz nodded, “Yes, Sir.”

“Secondly, the Princess is the _one_ thing keeping this system intact,” Briggs turned around, almost staring him down but Paz did not flinch, “Her safety is of tremendous importance to the monarchy and it is in your hands. Do not underestimate the responsibility and trust that has been put in your hands with this task.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Lastly, you will find Her Royal Highness to be an agreeable young lady,” Briggs sniffed, an almost-smile tugging at his lips and Paz knew that the guards had been right, “In all the years I have worked for the family, no other member has received such high praise from security personal as the princess.”

He sent him a look that Paz could only interpret as _don’t fuck this up, this is the easiest job we have_ and he nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” Briggs came to stop in front of a double-faced door, “You will meet the Princess now. This is your first day, as a sign of goodwill, we have not scheduled any appearance for Her Royal Highness today. This will change in the coming weeks and I trust that you will be prepared to deal with the responsibility.”

Paz could barely nod before the older man ahead already turned around, a stationed servant opening the doors for them.

As soon as the doors opened, Paz felt like he had been transported into another world entirely. Whereas the hallways had been dark, no windows to the outside to be seen, and plastered with dark paintings and tapestries older than himself, this room was … light and bright and airy.

It was so different than anything else.

The room they entered first seemed to be the main living room. There were some sofas in the middle, a big coffee table with a huge flower arrangement on top. One side was covered in great big windows, allowing a view onto the polished palace gardens, while the opposite wall hosted an enormous fireplace.

He also spotted a desk in the corner, a smaller vase of random flowers situated on top of it. Behind it, was a tall shelf full of old-looking books and some pictures.

“This is the main office of Her Royal Highness, the Princess,” Briggs explained, “Should she ever have personal engagements, this is where she receives her guests. To the right you have the entry to her personal bedroom,” he gestured to two open doors that gave view to a huge bed, “As well as the en suite bathroom.”

Paz nodded, his gaze still wandering about the room.

He was not easily impressed and to be honest, he did not think the rooms – or the place as a whole – to be overly pretty. Sure, the ceilings were tall and the flowery wallpaper probably had seen more wars than he had. But it was also old – _historical_ , his mother would say – and he did not want to live in a museum.

For that matter, who would _want_ to live in a museum?

“Window checks are every eight hours, at 02:00 hours, 10:00 hours and 18:00 hours, they are the biggest security gap and –“

“Briggs, is that you?” a voice called and Paz stiffened, immediately straightening his back and taking his hands out of his pockets. He was at work, after all, and it was his own personal rule to always seem strictly professional to his clients. No matter, how much they might annoy him as the job went on.

A figure emerged from the en suite bathroom and there you were.

Freshly showered, it seemed, and dressed in a long orange dress, your bare feet landing on the plush carpet as you walked towards him – them. Walked towards _them_.

You reminded him of one of those models on the covers of interior designs magazines that his grandmother liked so much. Like you were modelling in your own home, looking stylish yet relaxed. And that _smile_.

Stars, you had a pretty smile.

You looked happy and friendly and not at all like the conceited princess he had feared he would be assigned to. Which was both a good and a bad thing because _you did not look at all like the conceited princess he had feared he would be assigned to_.

His heart hammered in his chest as your gaze met his, a small furrow between your brows before you seemed to realize who he was and then – oh, then, you _looked_ at him. Truly looked at him.

“Your Highness,” Briggs lowered his head, “May I introduce you to Paz Vizsla, your new assigned bodyguard. I believe you have already been briefed?”

“You really couldn’t find anyone more obvious or bigger, could you, Briggs?” you said with a teasing smile, walking over to the low table where, presumably, his file had been prepared for you. Even as you picked the papers up, your gaze drifted over to him again, and you smiled at him, almost shyly and he could not shut up.

“No, Your Highness,” he replied, drily, “And to be honest, I have yet to meet someone bigger than me.”

“Oh, stars I didn’t mean –“ you stuttered, your eyes wandering over his form and he could not help but feel … flattered, by the way you eyed him up and down, clearly affected by his appearance. “I am sorry, Mr. Vizsla, I did not want to be rude.”

“You weren’t,” he hurried to say, already feeling Brigg’s exasperated gaze on him as he probably butchered every single rule in the code of conduct, “Y-your Highness. You weren’t rude.”

“I will leave you to it, then,” Briggs sighed, “Your Highness, I will see you tomorrow for your weekly briefing.”

You hummed, your eyes flitting over the file as you waved at the man, “Yes, thank you, Briggs.”

The door closed behind him and Paz became aware that he was now alone with you. Immediately, his eyes darted around the room, calming down when he did not spot any other entrances.

He was just making his way to position himself at the door, the weight of his gun secure beneath his hand when you interrupted him.

“Mr. Vizsla, sit,” you gestured to the sofa and he watched fascinated as you sat down sideways, pulling your feet up to the cushion as if you were talking to a friend than a strange armed man in your room.

Without saying anything, he complied, slowly walking over to the seating area and sitting down on the sofa opposite yours.

“It says here that you were in the war,” you thumbed through the file, “S-six times?”

“What can I say,” he shrugged, attempting a joke, “They couldn’t get enough of me.”

“Mr. Vizsla, that,” you frowned, looking up at him again and he swallowed harshly. How could anyone focus if you were looking at them like that? Full of empathy and kindness and … _worry_.

“Those are a lot of active duty calls.”

“Paz, please,” he asked, barely hearing himself speak, “Mr. Vizsla is my father, Your Highness. Besides, it rolls easier off the tongue:”

“Vey well then … Paz,” you smiled, “I hope we can become good friends. Briggs probably told you already, I try to make working for me as easy as possible. If you have any concerns, please don’t be afraid to tell me. I know that working here can be a bit of an adjustment, to put it lightly,” you grimaced, “But I promise I will do my best to make it easy on you!”

Despite himself, he felt his lips quirk up, smiling at you. “Some would argue that it is my job to make your life easy on you, not the other way around, Your Highness.”

He supported his arms on his knees, leaning forward and he saw how your eyes darted to his hands before you found his eyes again. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips and he hoped you would not see the way his jaw clenched at that.

“Did they issue you a standard suit?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“It’s way too small,” you frowned, “Surely, that cannot be comfortable for a … a man your size.”

You stood up and he followed, watching you with hawk’s eyes as you walked over to your desk. Taking one of the pens and notebook, you scribbled something down.

“We will get you measured for some new suits in the morning, Paz,” you looked up at him through your lashes before looking back down again, seeming almost embarrassed at having being caught looking at him, “I hope you have nothing against black. I’m afraid the tailors have very strict ideas about what bodyguards should look like.”

You stood up again, smiling widely at your own joke and Paz chuckled, apparently having lost all sense of his own rules.

So, you were the one he would be protecting for the foreseeable future.

No arrogant princess but a happy woman. A beautiful, happy, kind woman. Who was grinning at him with a twinkle in her eyes that he would not forget that easily. 

For the first time in a long time, Paz Vizsla was nervous.


	2. The One With The Nickname

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz Vizsla already knows he likes you way more than he should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of war, allusion to PTSD, Mike is a douchebag
> 
> Again, shout out to @mostly-megan for helping me with all of this and listen to me ramble about bodyguard!Paz almost non-stop! From now on, I aim to have a weekly update schedule for this series and I am very excited to see what you all think. As always, feedback is very much appreciated!

Working for you was far better than he had expected.

Or worse, depending on how one looked at it.

Ironically enough, the only thing he managed to look at consistently was _you_.

Well, that was not true.

Paz took his job seriously, he really did. Especially when it came to your trust in him and your safety. It was what he had been trained for after all and even a little (or big) infatuation with you could not keep him from doing his job,

But when you were in the safety of the palace, working on your desk or going for a meditative walk through the gardens, he allowed himself to look at you.

Really, truly, _look_ at you the same way you looked at him.

You were always happy, always smiling, when people were around but especially in the early morning hours, he saw a softer side to the Princess that had stolen people’s hearts. The side that didn’t smile at much but when you did? It lit up the whole room. The side that mumbled in your sleep, that talked quietly to him while you were eating some cold leftovers from dinner.

It was like no time had passed and already he could barely imagine what his life would look like without you in it. Without getting dressed in the black suit every morning, making sure his gun was loaded and strapped in even has he adjusted the earpiece. Without watching the news and seeing you on the front pages of tabloid magazines and scoffing at how wrongly they depicted you.

It had only taken three days until the first of the new suits was ready. You had been very insistent about the matter until Paz had reluctantly agreed and had gone with you to the tailor. The woman’s face, as she had taken his measurements, would have been amusing had he not been too focussed on the way your eyes had darted over his upper body before you had swallowed harshly and turned around to “offer him some privacy”.

He had only taken his jacket off.

But now, two weeks later, he was fully decked in new, much better fitting clothes and he felt like he could breathe freely. Like the only thing that came even _close_ to digging in his shoulders was his gun holster but he would replace those once he got his newest paycheck. For now, it was enough.

“Paz?”

He was ripped out of his thoughts by none other than the subject of his every thought.

Much like every morning, you were sitting curled up on your sofa, munching on a still-warm chocolate croissant with a glass of freshly pressed orange juice on the table right next to the day’s paper.

By far the biggest surprise working for you had been how early your days started and how late they ended.

Your code name in security protocols was _Bee_. As in as busy bee because day in day out you were flying from one event to the next, never stopping long enough to rest your legs.

Today was one of those days where you got up before the sun was even up. It was still pitch-black outside, rain softly pattering against the windows. Only the small lamp in the corner of your living room provided some light and covered everything in a soft golden glow.

He shifted, finally allowing himself to meet your gaze, “Yes, Your Highness?”

“I don’t know how many times I have told you not to call me that,” you smiled, tilting your head as you set your half-eaten croissant down and took a sip of the juice.

“What should I call you then? Your name?” he scoffed playfully, trying his best to imitate Briggs tone of voice, “I would never hear the end of it, milady.”

Your chuckle was like music in his ears and he felt his cheeks heat up at how pretty you looked, gazing at him in the low light. You rolled your eyes, finally, playfully chastising him for his joke, “Don’t let Briggs hear you, Paz, or I will have to find a new favourite security guard.”

His heart stopped.

“I, uh, I’m your favourite?”

“Of course, you are,” you replied easily, somehow not seeming nervous in the slightest but purely honest, “You always listen and – and you talk to me. It makes me feel less lonely here. Besides,” you smiled, “You make the briefings much funnier than the last guard I had.”

Paz could not help but grin, a little proud of himself for getting a compliment from you.

And he could not blame you for your comment.

Almost every breakfast was followed by a briefing with your personal assistant or Briggs – more often Briggs than not – as well as himself. Paz found these meetings incredibly boring. But what he did like about them was that _you_ found them boring too. You were better at hiding it, of course, probably having invested years of your life to school your face into the perfect neutral yet slightly interested expression.

But sometimes he noticed your eyes slip shut just as Briggs went on a tangent about the historical importance of this charity and that club. It only happened for the fraction of a second that your mask fell but then he could see how bored you were, how eager you were to just leave the meeting and get outside already.

In these moments, your eyes often met, Paz allowing himself a slight smile while you sent him a conspiring grin before you nodded at Briggs with an overly serious look on your face.

You were mischievous and funny and Paz wanted nothing more than to make grimaces behind Brigg’s back and see you smile at him like that again.

“No briefing today, though,” he reminded you.

Behind him he could hear footsteps passing in the hallway – probably one of the maids getting ready to prepare the breakfast for the King and Queen – and made sure that the footsteps passed the door as they should, no pauses or breaks that an intruder might have.

“Right,” you nodded, standing up and walking towards your bedroom, “Straight off to the appointments today. And then –“

“The date with Mike,” he finished your sentence, “I know, Your Highness.”

“You really _don’t_ like him, do you?” you teased him from behind closed doors, probably getting dressed, “What has Mike Chamberlain ever done to deserve your disapproval, Mr. Vizsla?”

“Mike _fucking_ Chamberlain,” he muttered under his breath, trying his best to keep the disdain out of his voice and probably failing.

You appeared again, dressed in a light pink pantsuit, a tiny flag pinned to your lapel. You tilted your head questioningly, slowly turning around and letting him look at you. “And?”

“You look nice,” he calmed you down, nodding at you encouragingly, “They will adore you like always, Your Highness.”

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” you asked, walking over to one of the armchairs and grabbing the handbag that you had already prepared the evening before, “How long until we need to leave?”

Paz looked at his watch, “Five minutes, Your Highness. They are expecting you at the hospital around ten and it will be a long drive.”

The dog tags around his neck weighed heavy at the mention of the hospital and he hoped you did not see the way his jaw clenched at the words, his mouth working hard to get the words out as normally as possible.

He knew he was one of the lucky ones. Six times he had gone to war and six times he had come back relatively unscathed – physically at least.

There were dozens – hundreds – of men and women who had not been so lucky. Who had not made it back at all or, if they had, were transferred to the _Hospital of Broken Ones_ as they called it in the army. The place you would visit today.

Every time he thought about it, cold sweat broke out on his skin and he had tried to train himself to adapt to the situation for today. He was not injured. He was not at war anymore. He was a bodyguard now. Someone with a stable job and a lower risk than what he had done before.

There was no reason for this unnecessary reaction from his body.

You nodded almost as if to yourself, and slipped the bag onto your forearm. But as you looked at him, your gaze changed, almost as if you realized something and Paz tensed.

“Paz …” you said slowly, “Will you be alright today? At the hospital?”

“I am perfectly capable of doing my job, if that is what you are asking, Your Highness, I –“

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” you interrupted him quietly, walking towards him.

He did not move, his gaze fixed on the window behind you. Only when he felt your hand on his forearm, your eyes looking up at him worriedly, did he lower his head and look at you.

“I will be alright,” he mumbled, “I promise.”

“Good,” you smiled, “I wouldn’t want to miss my favourite bodyguard by my side, now would I?”

He smiled and opened the door for you, letting you pass him by and just for the tiniest of seconds, allowed himself to watch the way your hips swayed as you walked ahead of him.

Today would be a good day.

*

The date you went on was a fucking joke. To Paz at least.

It was a second date to be exact. Mike Chamberlain was some millionaire’s son that had charmed you at one of your charity events about children’s literacy. Paz had needed all his strength to not roll his eyes to the back of his head when the slimy boy – because that’s what he was, a spoiled, rich _boy_ – asked you out for a date.

The way your whole face had lit up had made Paz wonder if you were asked out so rarely that even a romantic interest from a frat boy like Mike seemed like flattery to you.

For your first date, Mike had taken you to the opera. The equivalent to going to the movies for rich people, Paz supposed.

You had worn a pretty black dress, the train trailing after you and reminding Paz to keep his distance from you or else he would cause you to stumble. It was nothing spectacular, he had stood in the back of the private box, keeping an eye out for trouble – both from strangers and from the man by your side.

Nothing had happened though and when he had asked you out a second time you happily agreed.

Which led Paz to where he was now. Standing a safe distance from your table in the hippest restaurant in town.

It was one of the overly fancy kind. The kind where Paz would not even dare to look at the menu in fear of his wallet shrinking in size by just looking at the prices.

Who was he kidding, they probably did not even print the prices here.

He watched with hawk’s eyes as the man, Mike, kept on talking and _talking_ , your smile getting smaller and more forced the longer the one-sided conversation kept going.

He did not like the man. He was not sure why. There were plenty of possible reasons. The privilege the man exuded was one of them. The arrogance, another. Not to forget the self-importance with which the millionaire carried himself. His presence, according to himself, was a blessing for everyone. Even you.

But as Mike put his hand on yours, his thumb brushing over your wrist, Paz did not care.

No matter why he did not like him, he just wanted to free you from the man’s tight grip.

His body stiffened, his feet shuffling forward as he was already in the process of coming to your help.

You seemed to notice his movement, your head turning to look at him. A slight shake of your head was all you gave him and Paz nodded, forcing himself to relax. You had things under control. He did not need to step in. 

You pulled your hand away, a cold smile on your face, and waved for the check.

Paz took that as permission to approach you, the waiter hurrying to bring you your coat. Paz took it from him.

“Your Highness,” he murmured from behind you, holding your coat so you could slip your arms through the sleeves, “Should I call for the car?”

“Yes, please,” you answered, just as quietly, watching as Mike was busy paying – crossing out the field for the tip – “And, uh, please stay close, right here, please, Paz.”

He did not say anything, only giving you a small nod, positioning himself behind you. Your fingers brushed against his, on accident probably, but then they stayed there, ever so slightly brushing against the edge of his sleeve and he saw your chest heave.

You were nervous.

Mike stood up, eyeing him up and down and how close he was standing to you but Paz did not say anything. You needed – wanted – him here so he would stay. Especially if Mike seemed so keen on touching you.

“Yours or mine?” Mike asked, laughing as if it was a joke but Paz saw the true question in his eyes and the corners of his mouth turned down in disgust.

“Mine first,” you replied quickly, looking back at Paz, “Is the car ready, Paz?”

“It is,” he confirmed, closely following you as you made your way outside. Some of the other guests looked discreetly at you, probably you recognizing from all the tabloid covers you were on.

Mike, on the other hand, seemed not to be too pleased with how quickly you wanted to leave the place (or his presence for that matter). There was a permanent scowl etched onto his face and Paz made sure to keep himself between you and Mike or else he surely would have tried to touch you again.

Just as he had said, the black car was already waiting at the curb and all that was needed to do was to open the door for you and for Paz to slip into the passenger’s seat.

The driver nodded at him, starting the car as soon as Mike slipped into the back seat as well.

His eyes met Paz’ in the mirror and Paz could not help but accidentally let his jacket fall open, the gun in his shoulder holster clearly visible from where that douchebag was sitting.

The drive was silent and Paz smirked as he saw you determinedly look out of the window, away from Mike.

After what felt like an eternity – even for him who saw himself as an outsider of the situation – the car came to a standstill in front of the palace gates.

Paz left the car, his eyes trailing over the abandoned streets and, to his satisfaction, finding no apparent threat. He opened the door for you, met with your grateful smile as he helped you out of the car.

Your hand was warm and soft in his. Not that it mattered. No one was interested in how good your hands looked together. Least of all him.

He was so close – so close – to shutting the door and motioning for the reader to drove Mike home when the man himself stepped out of the car.

You could probably see the way the corners of his mouth turned down because your brows furrowed and you turned around, almost bumping into Paz’ chest as you tried to instinctively step away from Mike.

“Listen, darling,” Mike said over the car, “I think this is not going to work out.”

You nodded, still so close to Paz he could smell the perfume you were wearing, “Yes, I also had the feeling that –“

“Well, you haven’t even invited me up to your rooms once.”

“Excuse me?” you stiffened, your voice getting higher in pitch, “This – this is only the second date, Mike, I don’t –“

“I’m just saying,” the man shrugged, “It would’ve been much more successful if you’d put out, you know?”

“I am _not_ inviting you up to my apartment, Mike,” you stated, your voice determined and Paz was secretly proud for how sure of yourself you sounded, “I think you should go now.”

Paz stayed behind you, figuring that douchebag would not leave when he was being told too. And indeed, he could spot a spark of defiance in the man’s grey eyes but Paz only needed to shift on his feet to get the attention and intimidation he wanted.

Mike scoffed. “Yeah, sure, goodbye, _Princess_.”

He disappeared into the car again and, without another word, drove off.

You stayed outside for quite a while, almost making him nervous about how exposed you were.

But it was late at night, not a soul out here on the streets especially the gates in front of the palace and so he let you think for however long you wanted to.

When you finally started to move, it was with an urge that he rarely saw from you.

You passed the footman in silence, your heels making sounds as you hurried through the hallways to your rooms.

It was the first time Paz actually had to quicken his step to keep up with you and he grew worried. He did not really know how he felt now that this whole Mike-thing was over.

In a selfish way, he was relieved. Relieved that he would never have to see that obnoxious man again. Relieved that he would never to see how he leered at you when you did not see it.

But he also did not know how you felt and the quicker your steps got, the more suspicious he got that maybe Mike’s words had cut deeper than you cared to admit.

He found you in your bedroom, standing in front of the window and looking out at the lit-up fountains in the middle of the gardens. He stopped at the door, wanting to give you space but also wanting to make sure you were alright.

“I – I’m not stuck up, am I?” you asked quietly, not facing him.

His eyes fell to your back, “No, you’re not,” he replied, adding after a while, “Princess.”

You turned around, sending him a sad smile, “It sounds much less like an insult when you say it.”

“It’s because it’s not meant to be an insult,” he said, walking closer to you. His hands gently grasped the fabric on your shoulders, helping you out of your coat, “Now off to sleep, Princess, you have a briefing to look forward to tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hello over on tumblr! @maybege


	3. The One With The Other Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz realizes just how dangerous your situation is. You find a rebound guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: threatened violence (nothing happens though), forming of a mob, dirty talk and sexual thoughts
> 
> Again, a shoutout to the wonderful @mostly-megan for helping me with this! I hope you all enjoy this chapter – we are moving into the are of more (sexual) tension between our couple. 🥰 As always, feedback is much appreciated and let me know what you think!

He did not know how things could have escalated so quickly.

One second you were visiting a children’s library watching in on their different reading circles and letting the toddlers show you their favourite books and the next all he could hear was shouting and screaming from outside as his heart pounded in his chest.

The day had stared good, to be honest.

Paz had watched you devour your breakfast with enthusiasm as you talked to him about a movie you had watched the night before.

There was a spring in your step as you selected your wardrobe for the day – a knee-length teal coloured dress with opaque sleeves. You looked pretty, just like the princesses from the children’s books and before he knew it, he had told you so.

“They like my dresses,” you explained with a smile, “The children especially, they always ask me where my crown is.”

“And what do you tell them?”

“That my bodyguard forgot it, of course,” you grinned at him, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes and he shook his head with a chuckle.

*

For hours on end, he watched you sit with the children, reading their favourite books to them and listen to the librarian expand on the different programs they were offering to make sure children of all backgrounds had sufficient access to books and media.

“It’s so important,” he heard you say, “Libraries are a place where we can all come together. They are a free space we all should be able to use.”

When you had entered the library, there hadn’t been many people around outside. Only a few spectators who wanted to catch a glimpse of a real princess and of course people from the press shouting for you to turn around and give them a smile.

But when you left the building, he immediately saw that the streets were _packed_. His heart stopped.

You did not notice it at first, simply walking towards where the car was parked.

“Hey Princess!” someone shouted and you turned around smiling, only to be met with scowling faces, “You think that dress could have paid for my child’s school?”

“Uh, what?” you asked, way too quiet for the people to actually hear you but Paz could sense the moment the mood turned on the street.

A rumble went through the crowd and in his earpiece, Paz could hear Briggs’ order to turn the car around.

Something was happening, something bad.

“C’mon, princess,” he muttered, “It’s time to go.”

You did not react, so he gently wrapped his hand around your upper arm and let you to the parking garage a few steps further, hoping that the situation would not escalate as badly as he was fearing at the moment.

Bad idea.

The shouts grew louder, asking for you, and he could see the crowd growing by the minute. The few policemen who had been stationed to keep the press in check were clearly not equipped to keep dozens of protesters at bay. It would only be a matter of seconds before everything would go to shit.

You did not say anything, simply following his lead when a metallic clank went through a crowd followed by an uproar.

Paz looked back to see that one of the metal barriers – meant to keep the whole area restricted – had fallen down and now an angry mob of people was streaming into the area, all having one common goal: You.

“Get her out of there,” someone snapped in his earpiece and Paz growled. As if he was not doing that right now.

He barely heard you whimper, only wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you down and against him as he hurried to the nearest exit. “I got you, princess, I got you.” 

His left hand had already grabbed the gun and switched off the safety, ready to shoot whoever would even dare to come for you.

“Bitch!” someone shouted.

A stone landed near his feet, slithering over the floor and you almost tripped over your heels. You looked up at him, fear written all over your face and Paz felt his military instincts kick in.

His arm tightened around you like a vice, pressing against your back so your head was covered by his body while he basically dragged you towards the garage. The aggression in the air was palpable and he wondered what had happened to incite the crowd like that.

The door was in sight now.

He could see the two policemen doing their best to keep the people off the entrance you would need to enter.

“A car is ready in the lower levels,” Briggs’ voice sounded through his earpiece, “Get her out of there, Vizsla.”

“I’m trying,” he barked through clenched teeth

The volume got louder. Cars were honking as people blocked the streets and he could hear them screaming, shouting obscenities at you as you whimpered into his chest.

This was not a good sign.

A man, not much older than himself, appeared in front of him, fist raised as he tried to reach you, “Down with the –!”

Paz punched him in the face, the bone making a crunching sound underneath his hand.

The door opened, probably one of the policemen, and he pushed you through the passage and into the dark stairwell. Someone grabbed the back of his jacket and with a grunt, he ripped himself out of the grip.

The shouts grew louder as the door closed behind him with a click.

“Down,” he instructed, making sure that the door was actually closed.

You did not move but rather looked at him with wide eyes, clearly terrified and his jaw clenched at the thought of how close they’d been to reach you.

Behind him, people pounded on the door, pushing and pulling on it, clearly trying to get inside.

Paz swallowed.

“C’mon, down,” he urged you, gesturing towards the stairs that presumably led to the garage level Briggs had been referring to.

When you did not move, he stepped forward. The shouting was louder than his heartbeat as he gently pushed you towards the stairs, his chest pressed against your back. “We don’t have time, princess, you need to be safe, ‘kay?”

“T-the children,” you brought out, slowly starting to move as you walked down the stair, “Are the children okay?”

“The children are perfectly fine,” he answered, although he felt sick to his stomach at the fact that he was lying to you. He had no idea how the children were doing. Stars, hopefully, they had been able to evacuate them.

Your hand slipped into his and he squeezed it reassuringly, picking up the pace and hurrying you down the steps.

Just as Briggs had said, a big black car was waiting for you, three armed security guards standing in front of it. Another car was parked behind it, he recognized one of the guards sitting at the wheel, another sitting beside him, hectically talking on the phone.

The car door was opened for you. Paz did not let you slow down but gently pushed your head down so you’d enter. You followed his wordless instructions without any protest. The shouts of the mob still echoed through the empty rooms, right into the car.

He shut the door forcefully, locking the noises out and instead leaving you with the tense silence of a car packed full of people of which none were talking.

“What does it look like outside?” he asked the driver, “We getting out of here?”

His gun rested heavily on his thigh, still keeping it in his head because something – some very little part in him – told him that he might still need it. That they would stop at nothing to get to you.

“Bad,” the man in the front replied flatly, nodding to you, “Your Highness,” he turned the key in the ignition, “We will need to hope that the streets have been blocked off. They are showing no interest in entering the library.”

“What is happing?” you asked, your voice quiet, “Is – why were they so angry?”

“It seems that your brother has been involved in a bribing scandal concerning his process in front of the Supreme Court,” the second guard in the front of explained, “The King and Queen have already published a statement condemning his actions and have been moved to a safe location in the country.”

You sighed, looking incredibly tired, “Of course they have …”

The car started driving, closely followed by the one in the back and he could hear them communicating over the radio, Brigg’s voice popping up then and again as they drove towards the exit.

You did not say anything, sitting stiffly beside him but Paz could see the way your bottom lip trembled. You refused to look at him, at any of them, to be fair, and he felt his heart clench painfully.

The back of the car was dark, with the tinted glass and the protective tinted glass wall between the front and the back of the car and it provided some form of privacy that almost seemed … intimate.

Maybe that was why he reached out his free hand to grasp yours again. It was nothing at first, just a brush of his fingers against yours but your head snapped up, your eyes red-rimmed as you so clearly tried to keep your countenance.

He wanted to smile at you, to reassure you somehow, to nod at you, at least. But he couldn’t. All he could manage was to look at you – honest and sincere – and hope that it would be enough.

And it was.

Your hand tentatively moved under his, turning your palm up so that your fingers could slot between his and his heart pumped in his chest so loudly he was afraid you might hear.

You were holding his hand. Willingly.

And when your lips quirked up just a fraction, it did not matter that the cameras were pressing their lenses against the car.

They would not be able to see a thing anyway.

*

A few weeks later he deeply regretted his decision.

Not because anyone had seen. Stars, no.

But because touching you like this, being open and vulnerable with you like this, had opened something in his heart that was very, _very_ unprofessional.

Normally he would debate on whether or not to ask you out. Or how to ask you out, for that matter. But one advantage of his position was that it was very clear that you had no possible interest in him. And that any romantic advance from him would cost him his job.

But stars, was it hard.

So very hard to see you smile at him, brush your hands against his. To have you get dressed and ask him for his opinion even if he knew it was for another man.

The newest man in your life was a guy named Roger.

Roger was nice.

Paz did not mind him but he also did not see anything in him.

Roger was nice but _bland_.

Like a gaping fish on land, the man talked and talked and talked until he could barely breathe. But he made you smile so at least there was that. And he was certainly nicer than that douchebag Mike from whom you hadn’t heard a word since that night (for which Paz was glad).

Your _rebound guy_ you had called him on the phone to your friend. Someone to take the edge off and take care of your needs.

Paz had swallowed at that, trying not to be too obvious with how he had twitched in his pants.

 _He_ could take care of your needs if you wanted him to. _He_ could press you up against the wall and finger you until you were so overstimulated you were crying, your wetness dripping down his wrist. Hell, he’d sit you on his cock and make you whine for hours if you needed him to. He just wanted to make you feel good.

That was not his job, though. That was Roger’s.

And – with some amusement, he would have to admit – he noticed that Roger was failing. Hopelessly.

You had been tense for weeks now. Even after you had gotten to know and started dating Roger and it was not like Paz wanted to listen in on your sex life. He just, quite literally, had no choice.

Even when he tried his best to give you some privacy, Roger’s grunts were loud enough that he could hear them through the door. What was interesting was that he never heard _you_.

Why did he not hear you?

“What do you think?” you asked, stepping out of your room and pulling him out of his thoughts.

You spread your arms, giving a dramatic twirl. You were wearing a lavender gown, the skirt looking voluminous and fluffy but the bodice, he swallowed harshly, the bodice was almost see-through. Stars, he would just have to run his fingers along your cleavage and he could –

“Good,” Roger interrupted from behind him, “Very good. You ready, darling?”

It was a dinner, hosted by one of those crazy rich hoteliers to collect donations for one charity or another. Most of the guests saw it as an opportunity to splurge on a new evening wardrobe and walk around like proud peacock while subtly trying to network.

The whole affair took place in an exclusive hotel by the coast. You had driven there just this morning, almost two hours and only with a small bag and your dress in the back.

It’d been years since Paz had seen some water and when the car had passed the beach he felt like a little child, hardly able to take his eyes off the magnificent view of the waves and the way the sun reflected on the water.

Not that he would be able to take a swim.

The schedule you were on was very strict and as soon as you arrived it was time to shower and bathe and prepare for the evening ahead. Which came to fruition with you being helped into this haute couture creation by one of your maids.

Paz thought it was worth it.

You looked like a fairy to him. Or a fairy tale princess. With the way you smiled so brightly at him even when you were on another man’s arm and just how you kept looking back at him as if wanting to make sure that he was still there.

As if he would ever leave you.

For the occasion, Paz had splurged on a new suit. A good one. One that actually fit his shoulders and his thighs and that seemed to look good by the way your eyes kept roaming over him.

How he wished he could take you out sometime.

*

The party itself was boring, really.

The security arrangements were quite good with security guards covering the whole circumference of the room. He even recognized one of them as an old buddy from the army, nodding to him in passing.

So, what was left for him to do was to position himself at the wall behind your chair, his hands folded in front of him as he kept a watchful eye on you.

There was music and food and auctions that almost everyone participated in but you hardly stood up from your seat to mingle with the other guests. Quite the opposite actually, it seemed that everyone came to you. Several guests at once flocked around you, listening to your every word as you smiled and exchanged pleasantries with every one of them.

His jaw clenched, seeing how Roger had put his arm around you, his fingers brushing over your skin. He was playing the ever-loving partner to the princess and as he saw the big grin on his face, Paz wondered if one of the reasons Roger was interested in you were the connections you and your family would be able to provide – and the fame.

He did not know how long he was pondering that question, but before he knew it the party was coming to an end. Slowly but surely, more and more guests left and that was when a mischievous smirk appeared on Roger’s face, whispering something in your ear that made you look around nervously.

Paz debated whether he should step in or not when you grabbed Roger’s hand and pulled him from his chair, towards the dark hallways.

He sighed, pushing himself from the wall and following you as quietly as possible.

Before you disappeared into the room, you threw a look back at him, a happy smile of expectation on your face and even if it was Roger – _Roger_ – he hoped that you would not be disappointed.

How could any man want to leave you disappointed?

He tried his very best not to think about how he would please you. What he would do to make you make those sounds he dreamed of. But he did not have to wait for very long because just a few minutes later, the door opened again.

“Let’s go,” you huffed, holding your skirts up as you determinedly walked towards the elevators. Paz could hardly contain his grin at your scowl – another time that Roger had missed the mark, it seemed – and followed you into the small confines of the cabin, pressing the button for the penthouse where you had been settled in.

*

“Roger, huh?”

You could hear Paz grin even if you did not see it and a very unladylike groan escaped you as you leant against the elevator wall.

“Don’t get me started,” you murmured, your eyes almost falling shut but fluttering open again because oh my, how did Paz’ back always look so _broad_? You wanted nothing more than to just wrap your arms around him from behind and smooth your cheek against the fabric of his suit.

Or maybe to just be wrapped up in his arms, resting against his chest.

Stars, you needed to get your act together.

“What? Are you not satisfied, princess?” he teased you, exaggeratedly looking at his watch, “Did the … _five_ minutes not show you a good time?”

“Is every man like that?” you blurted out, feeling absolutely miserable.

Paz turned around, his gaze finding yours and you swallowed harshly, not able to just shut up. _Shut up and get it together, this is so inappropriate._

“I mean … Why – why would he not care about me … my pleasure?” you gestured to your dress, one strap already falling off your shoulder, “I took so much time to get ready, to impress him, and all he thinks I am good for is a quick make-out session in an abandoned room and him coming in his fist?” you scoffed, your shoulders falling in disappointment, “Sometimes I wonder …”

“Wonder what?” he asked, stepping closer to you and suddenly it felt like your lungs did not have enough room to expand in your chest.

Stars, he was so big. Big and tall and broad and you were alone in the elevator and it would not even take a second to gather some courage and lean up and kiss him but it would be so inappropriate and stars, what if he hated you for it and –

“Wonder what, princess?” he repeated, looming over you and you swore you heard his breath hitch as his hand came to rest on the wall next to your head, “Tell me.”

“I wonder if you’d do the same,” you murmured, transfixed by the way he was looking at you, his eyes falling to your lips and you saw his bottom lip disappear between his teeth.

“Fuck, princess,” he muttered, turning his head as if to look away from you and your mouth feel open trying to something, anything, to keep him close to you.

But then he turned his head again, his gaze even more intense than before, and he took a step closer to you, his chest pressed against yours and you could feel his heart beating against his chest.

“I would never treat you like that,” he stated, a conviction in his voice, “I – shit, Princess, I would’ve told you how pretty you look in that dress, how I want nothing more than to ravish you and pop each of these little buttons open. I would have taken my time with you, appreciate the lingerie you wore for me,” his eyes wandered to your bare shoulder, his free hand gliding across your skin, down your chest and you gasped, leaning your head back against the wall, “I would’ve fucked you so good, would’ve come so deep inside you … you wouldn’t even _think_ about asking your bodyguard what he would have done.”

You felt like you could hardly breathe, your thighs squeezing together so hard your kneecaps hurt. The things he was saying … oh stars, did he mean them? Did he – would he actually do them if you asked him to?

His breath fanned over your neck, his fingers slipping just barely under the edge of your dress, brushing over the top of your breasts and you whimpered. “Paz … please …”

“Princess,” his voice was hoarse, his lips brushing against your skin and you arched your back, wanting him closer. Something hard and heavy pressed against your belly and your eyes flew open in realization. He was … he was hard. And _big_.

His face was so close to yours, you could see the speckles in his eyes, a soft brown gazing back at you and then his eyes closed and your eyes closed and you could feel his lips ghosting over yours and –

Bing!

You flinched, Paz’ warm hands coming down to your shoulders, calming you as he stepped away. He did not look away from you, not even when the doors behind him opened and he stepped out into the hotel hallway, quickly checking for any intruders before waving for you to follow.

The heat in your cheeks was almost unbearable at this point and you avoided his eyes, deeply embarrassed by how you had behaved.

Paz cleared his throat awkwardly and with a glance to your side, you could see that he was still very much …. _excited_ from your encounter.

“Princess, I – “

“Thank you, Paz,” you interrupted him, taking your courage and smiling at him as best as you could, “truly, I – Thank you. Don’t apologize, please, I wanted it as much as you, maybe even more.”

Paz shook his head, a smirk on his lips, “I doubt that’s possible, Princess.”

“Do you promise you’re not mad?” you asked, hating yourself for how insecure you sounded, “Will – will you be there again tomorrow?”

“Of course, I will, Princess,” he replied, his hand brushing against yours, “After all, what would you do without your favourite bodyguard?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hello over on tumblr! @maybege

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello over on tumblr! @maybege


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